


In the Woods Somewhere

by Mareridt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Coyotes, Danger, Foxes, Halloween Special, Hallucinations, Hozier, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, In The Woods, Lost in Woods, Lyric fic, M/M, Nightmare, Review, Somewhere, Song fic, Stiles has nightmare, Teen Wolf, Violence, beasts - Freeform, halloween 2016, halloweern special 2.0, song lyric + fic, sterek edition, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareridt/pseuds/Mareridt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Derek”, a broken, strangled, hoarse voice now reached his ears, and he tried to move again. Just as the voice was heard again, he realized it was his own. </p><p> “Derek”, a pathetic whine let itself right out of his mouth and mind. Right after that, the darkness enveloped him in a scorching hot embrance. </p><p>__________________________</p><p>Reposting this again, in a Sterek edition. Kind of. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Woods Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this again, in a Sterek edition. Kind of. Enjoy! 
> 
> On my profile you can find the previous one!
> 
> _______________  
> So, this is my version of the Halloween special. I got this idea, this inspiration, by listening to “In the woods somewhere”, a song played by Hozier. You should listen to it while reading this!

 

 

 

 _My head was warm,_  
My skin was soaked.  
I called your name 'til the fever broke.

 

“Derek.”

Only one word in his mind, and it was that. Thinking had never been hard in his life, hyperactive as he was, but it was indeed now. His eyelids trembled, eyes moving fervently under them, searching peace and finding fear. His mind in haze, he could barely keep his senses alert.

No, wait, he could _not_. He didn't have energies, nor will, he wished he could fall back into the darkness and forget everything was clutching his guts in a heinous grip.

“Derek”, he thought again, irrationaly, and his mouth motioned every letter. Who was Derek? Why did his dry, chapped lips keep forming that word, that name? He needed to know, he _had to_. He tried to open his eyes, but how could he move when he didn't feel nothing but numbness in all his limbs? His eyelids were heavy, his head just as numb as his whole body. He needed to move, but he could not. A sudden cold breeze freshed his face and neck, making him realize he was soaked to the bone as goose bumps crippled in waves through him.

“Derek”, a broken, strangled, hoarse voice now reached his ears, and he tried to move again. Just as the voice was heard again, he realized it was his own. A strange tingle rested in his limbs, making every move extremely painful, but he turned on his stomach, his whole world spinning around him fasted each second just as the edges seemed to turn black.

His head was warm, cheeks scorching with fever, but a painful coldness chilled him down to the bones. He had to stand up, to find whoever was Derek, he didn't have time to wait for the fever to break. It was important, he knew it was, but as soon as he tried to raise himself on his hands and open his eyes, a new wave of pain forced him on the ground, crying out and whimpering.

“Derek”, a pathetic whine let itself right out of his mouth and mind. Right after that, the darkness enveloped him in a scorching hot embrance.

  
_When I awoke_ _  
_ _The moon still hung._ _  
_ _The night so black that the darkness hummed_

 

When he awoke once again, the darkness greeted him again like an old friend. His mind was still in haze, his skin scorching like the sun was trying to burn him alive, but still ice cold inside. His face was pressed against something rough, something sharp and wet, soaked like his own skin. He could smell the moss, could smell mug and old leaves, and trying to move his head he could _feel them_. He was somewhere, out in the woods. Old, broken leaves were under his body, and as soon as he opened his eyes and turned on his back again, the scratching noise of them broking even more under his limbs raised new bristle on his skin, forcing new long cold shivers down his spine.

His eyelids trembled again, but this time, he found enough strenght to open them, and his hazel eyes were greeting by the sudden silver light of the moon still hanging behind the trees, only little shining points able to surpass them. He blinked, and looked around.

Trees were surrounding him in every direction his eyes gazed, dark and scaring in that night. The moon couldn't help him down there; he was alone, exposed and vulnerable in front of whatever was hiding behind the trunks, shining mischievous eyes laughing at him in the bushes. He tried to see something behind them, but nothing was visible. The night was so black, that his fears came alive, and they hummed around him eerie rustles.

  
_I raised myself._ _  
_ _My legs were weak._ _  
_ _I prayed my mind be good to me._

 

He needed to move.

Whoever Derek was, he felt he had to help him. Danger was hiding in the trees, and he had to help in every way he could, he had to warn him.

_Warn them._

_Stand up_ , he thought. He groaned in pain just trying to sit up, every single part of his body screaming in ache. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, his sight blurred and his head spinned around even more.

Fear clutched again his guts, a displeasing feeling inside his chest, telling him he was even worse than he thought. As he got on his knees, he licked his lips. Sweat and blood mixed their tastes on his tongue, a stinging pain burning his chapped lips. He took in a sharp breath, the pungent smells of the woods filling his lungs like hundreds of cold needles. He didn't like needles.

“Stand up”, he told himself again. With the last remains of his strenght, moved just by desperation, he stood up. His legs immediately wobbled unsteady, and he fell again on the ground. His mind fogged more; black points danced in front of his eyes, darkening his sight. His legs were weak, but he had to do it. He had to success.

As he got up again, his mind tried to force him down again with dizziness, but he held firm. He was going to do it. He just prayed his mind to clear, and be good to him.

  
_An awful noise_ _  
_ _Filled the air._ _  
_ _I heard a scream in the woods somewhere._

 

He wanted to move.

Moving was good, he didn't give time to the fear to paralyze him there. His heart was pounding heavy in his ears and chest, pomping blood in a rushing race in his veins. He could almost hear it inside him, and that scared him. He blinked, eyelids still heavy, and focused his hazel eyes on the darkness in front of him. Was getting inside there a good idea? The bare dread clutching tight his lungs was of another opinion. He moved to search for the moon hiding behind the trees, but a noise halted him there.

An awful noise filled the air around him, coming from behind. Was it near? It surely managed to make him shiver down to the bones, that displeasing feeling creeping up in him again. His eyes shutted close as he turned around, and pure and bare fear made him hesitate before opening them again. His wet, dirty hands twitched at his side. “Derek?”

Nothing answered his call. The noise repeated and he flinched, inhealing sharply, breath hitching in his throat. His soaked skin felt even cooler, the fever scorching his body couldn't help him from feeling less scared. He wasn't just scared. He was terrified. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and he tried to release the air inside him with a painful hiss. The noise didn't seem something coming from an animal. No, it was not.

It was a scream. A scream, there, in the woods somewhere.

  
_A woman's voice!_ _  
_ _I quickly ran_ _  
_ _Into the trees with empty hands._

 

The scream sounded again.

It was a shriek.

And the voice... it was a woman's voice.

 _No_ , a _banshee_ 's. It was... “ _Lydia_!”

Dread and grief creeped up inside him in a cold heinous flow, and he found himself hardly breathing, blood rushing inside his ears and lungs clutching unpleasantly at those sensations. Danger's feeling rested in his guts, like an hissing snake ready to attack, and his sight blurred with tears. As the shriek repeated, he moved.

He ran into the trees, faster than he could, heading in the shriek's direction. Lydia – but who was she? – was in danger, and the nearer he got to her, the more erratic his breathing became, until the air was barely filling his chest, scratching his throat with sharp invisible claws. His head was heavy, his mind fogged, his sight blurred. A pair of tears mixed with the sweat and the dirt on his cheek. He had no weapon, he was unarmed, yet he ran there, even if with empty hands. As soon as he got into the place he heard the shriek come, he could clearly smell blood. Not his, someone's else.

“Lydia?”, he repeated. She was nowhere to be seen. But how could he even recognize her if he didn't remember her? _Strawberry blond hair_ , he thought suddenly. What... The information just came out of nowhere. Still, nothing was in front of him.

What was with the scream again, then? Had he just imagine it? Was it an hallucination? But there, in that small place where the trees retired enough to let the moon steal peeks down there with its silver rays... There, there was blood. Dark, fresh blood, coming from something on the ground.

He looked at it, and his own blood ran away from his face, dizziness gripping him again.

  
_A fox it was,_ _  
_ _He shook afraid._ _  
_ _I spoke no words, no sound he made._

 

An animal was there on the leaves, staining them with its blood. Chest rising and descending faster in erratic breathing, not enough air in it, not enough time to recover, not enough strenght to go away. It was a fox.

 _Kira_.

Another name, no memories to follow it and fill the gapes in his mind. He shook his head, and focused again on the bleeding animal.

He shook afraid. Faltering in silent whimpers on the gound, its limbs twitching with pain in a pool of blood. As he dropped on his knees, the fox jumped slightly, but didn't move away. It couldn't move.

Not like that.

He saw bright orange eyes following every single motion of his, every breath, matching it with one of his own. Its soft fur was pale at the muzzle, red tongue lolling out from the mouth, sharp teeth bared under the moonlight. He waited for the fox to move, to make any kind of sound, but nothing came except for its ragged breath. His sight was constantly blurry now, and he knew why. He was crying.

The fox looked at him, looked at the tears cleaning his dirty face, yet it stayed silent. The name repeated itself in his mind, stronger, surer, but he didn't say it outloud.

His lips motiong _Kira_ , but he spoke no words. Nor a sound it made.

  
_His bone exposed,_ _  
_ _His hind was lame._ _  
_ _I raised a stone to end his pain._

 

He let his eyes travel on the fox's body, and they halted at its wound, red shining bright in the silver low light of the moon behind the trees, and he had to suppress a whine in the back of his throat. The wound was horrible, and it made his skin itch like millions needles, chilling him to the bone with dread and desperation.

Blood was still gushing from it, spilling more with every breath taken in by the animal, and he tried to think about how much pain it was causing inside the little body at his knees. His hind was lame, fresh flesh open and ripped apart, showing off the white bones to the cold air of the night, giving the moon over them a show no one would be able to easil erase from his mind. Not him, for sure.

He bit his lips and looked away from the wound, his heart beating so fast he felt he was dying with the animal itself. He decided to look again at those bright orange eyes, and regretted his choice soon after.

He could read the pain inside those irises. He could read the haunt behind them, the fear, the sorrow. The struggle behind them was unbearable, so he decided to focus on the only thing he could help. The silent pleading.

He shutted his eyes again, an almost silent whine in his throat, and looked away to search for something useful. As soon as he found it, he closed his fingers around it and pointed his hazel eyes into the bright glaze again, then nodded. The fox relaxed, closed his eyes.

And he raised the stone to end his pain.

  
_What caused the wound?_ _  
_ _How large the teeth?_ _  
_ _I saw new eyes were watching me._

 

The fox stopped breathing. Now his skin was dirty again, wet with something different than sweat and rain, filthier than mug. He looked at his hands covered in blood and blinked fast, trying to make that vision faint, and he breathed erratingly, forcing himself to stop crying.

He thought about those names again.

_Derek._

_Lydia._

_Kira._

He had to find them. He had to get back to them. He prayed to join them.

Who were they? His friends? Were they in danger, just like the fox? Was _he_ in danger?

“Yes”, he heard himself whisper. He was in danger too. Something, _someone_ , was threating his life like nothing else before. That probably attacked the animal, now dead on his knees. What kind of creature was that? How big it was? How large were the teeth? It was capable to devour and rip apart that fox, and he felt the fear tighten his grip on him. He swallowed hard, watery eyes and erratic breath. He licked his lips again, and the taste of blood was stronger this time.

Still thinking, he noticed a motion with the tail of his eyes. Grey and brown fur, bright sky eyes. A coyote?

 _Malia_.

And as it appeared, it was gone. He turned his gaze back on the dead corpse on the ground, the pool of blood still not big enough to stop.

He had to go away from there. That was the reason he pressed his hands again in the bloody pool under him, so he could stand up. But as soon as he did, the sound of an heavy breath reached his ears, and he felt dread paralyzing him in his place.

Slowly, he looked up in front of him. The blood in his veins froze.

He saw new eyes watching him.

  
_The creature lunged._ _  
_ _I turned and ran_ _  
_ _To save a life I didn't have._

 

The first thought that came into his mind was _run_. But he couldn't move, he was completely paralyzed. The eyes that were watching him were bright like the fox's and the coyote's eyes as well, but these... these were red. Red like rage, brighter than fire, and he felt the dread stronger than ever. _Move, move, move, run away!_

Red like blood. Red like power. The power of an Alpha.

 _Scott_.

But no, that new name had nothing to do with _those_ eyes. They were red, yes, probably related with something in his memories as well as blue and orange eyes, but they were different altogether. They were cruel. They were... feral.

He closed his hands in fist, and that was all. Still no movement. He had to find the strenght to turn and hide, to outrun the monster in front of him, the owner of those hell eyes, before the monster itself could step into the low light of the moon and eat him alive. His heart was racing into his chest, his blood came to life again and pomped into his veins with scorching force, eyes steady on the dark figure widened with terror. He started to cry again, displeased.

“This is a dream”, he whined, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips nervously. “This is just a dream.”

The monster could smell his fear. Could smell his stress, his struggle, his desperation. And when it lunged forward, a metre from him, he could smell clearly the adrenaline suddenly inside his body, the same adrenaline that made him snap. He turned and ran to save his life. A life that in that dream, he didn't have. He didn't feel like having.

  
_Dear, in the chase_ _  
_ _There as I flew_ _  
_ _Forgot all prayers of joining you._

 

He was being chased.

He felt that in the cold thin air around him, whiping his face itself instead of the branches of the trees around him. The beast was right behind him, playing with his prey, letting him run away with the hope of salvation.

_Someone else chased me. Who chased me? Derek. No, Derek never chased me, but he was good. Derek is good. Void was not. The trickster was evil._

He could hear his growls, his howls, and couldn't but see again those bright red eyes inside his head, so clear in his hazing mind it was like those irises were being printed on his. Heart pounding in his chest and ears, he prayed to be save, and in that chase, he forgot whoever he was searching for.

“This is just a dream.”

Probably they were dead, just like the fox, who he killed himself. He didn't want to die. He wanted to keep feeling the adrenaline running in his veins, he wanted to feel that fear, that desperation over and over again, because that meant he was _alive_.

“A dream.”

He forgot all prayers of joining them. He forgot his friends.

  
_I clutched my life_ _  
_ _And wished it kept._ _  
_ _My dearest love I'm not done yet_

 

He tripped over and fell on the ground.

His palms scratched on the hard earth, burned, and he got dizzy again, bumping his head against it. He looked around and saw on what he tripped. It was a croosbow, whose arrow was impaled in a big woody root connected to the stump of an old tree. An oak, probably.

And he thought, _Nemeton_.

He thought, _Allison_.

He tried to understand what that meant, but a low growl brought him back to reality.

That was it. The chase was over.

He turned around and the beast stand in front of him, just a couple of metres away. “This is just a fucking dream”, he said again. Maybe he could convince himself before dying.

He turned on his back, and drew back with the support of his hands. The beast stepped forward. “Then wake up”, he whined. Sight blurred with tears, the only thing clear in that mess were the flaming red eyes. “Wake up, wake up, _wake up_!”

The beast growled, and he hit a tree with his back. He cringed down the closer it came to him. “No”, he whispered. He clutched his life with all his willing, with all his strenght and desperation, wishing it kept, wishing it was enough. “No, please, no!”

It _had_ to be enough. He wasn't done yet. No, he wasn't done, he wasn't done at all, he wanted to life, to remember, to erase that blood on his hands, to break the fever, to find his friends. He wasn't done. “Wake up, wake up, wake...”

And that was his thoughts as the beast climbed on top of him, its forelegs at the side of his head, its teeth just inches from his throat. He whined pitifully, his eyes fluttering close. His heart was pounding fast, it didn't want to stop as well. The fear tighten his grip on him as hotter the breath on his face became.

When the beast roared at the top of its lungs in front of his face, he screamed the same, crying out all his pain. “ _WAKE UP!_ ”

 

 _How many years_  
I know I'll bear  
I found something in the woods somewhere.

 

“ _STILES!_ ”

He screamed, his lungs empty and burning in pain, needing air. He was crying aloud, and someone was holding him tightly with an arm around his chest, the other on his waist. Arms. Hands. Fingers. That someone was human. And the beast was nowhere to be seen.

“Stiles. Stiles, calm down”, that voice whispered again, making him cringe inside. “Stiles, it's okay now. It's okay. You're safe.”

As soon as he stopped screaming, the man who was holding him let him go. When he turned around, he cried again, his eyes locked with Derek's. The man held his face between his hands, a worried frown creasing his forehead; Stiles tried to breath in and breath out regularly, but he couldn't. They were in the woods still. Stiles' hands were soaked with blood. He couldn't... He couldn't...

“I found something” he whispered, broken. “I found something... in the woods, somewhere. I was searching for you, and Lyds, and... it... it just came out of nowhere...”

Derek, surprisingly, relaxed. He hugged Stiles tightly again, both of them not caring about the sweat wetting Stiles' shirt and making it cling to his body. “Stiles, you're fine now. You're safe” Derek whispered. “We fought him off. The beast is gone.”

“But... But Kira...” Stiles sobbed, not relenting. Derek sighed.

“She's fine. She's tough. Scott and I found you in a worse condition” the werewolf whined low in his throat. “But now you're fine too. It's the end, we're all done.”

Stiles than focused on his surroundings. He wasn't in the woods, he was in an hospital cell. He relaxed. They were done for real, now.

He nodded and enjoyed with all himself the sweet press of hips against his chapped mouth, but the thoughts still hunted him. Maybe the beast wasn't the only thing there. Maybe there was something else.

Where? There, in the woods somewhere.

 


End file.
